


Lessons in Miscommunication

by airebellah



Series: Teach Me Your Ways [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Cultural Differences, Developing Relationship, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I'm embarrassed for you Thorin, Language Barrier, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bilbo, Pining, Poor Bilbo, Pre-Relationship, Thorin Broods, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin Oakenshield Is a Dork, Thorin is a Softie, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, esl!thorin, like really bad, part of a series but can be read as a standalone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airebellah/pseuds/airebellah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teaching Thorin English proved rather difficult, but Bilbo felt he was up for the challenge. After all, it was the least he could do - and his attraction to Thorin certainly had nothing to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Miscommunication

**Author's Note:**

> If you're unfamiliar with my story Teach Me Your Ways, don't worry - this can be read as a stand alone story. Just know that Thorin is a refugee from Erebor and Bilbo is teaching him English :)
> 
> If you do know TMYW - this is basically just an idea that hit me while I was teaching my sister-in-law English. It's basically an outtake from the story. I imagine it happening shortly after they meet, before Thorin has a better understanding of English.

Bilbo glanced up from the paper, discreetly looking at the man beside him. Thorin's brows were furrowed in concentration, lips moving as he silently sounded out the words. Bilbo bit his lip as he stared at the Ereborean, mesmerized by Thorin's adorably fierce expression.

"We go to the park," Thorin stated slowly.

"Hmm?" Bilbo asked, flushing as Thorin looked towards him.

"We go... to park," Thorin muttered, his tone growing unsure as he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away.

"No, no - sorry, the first thing you said was good," Bilbo hurried to explain. "I, ah... just got a little distracted. It should actually be -"

"We stop?" Thorin offered, thick brows drawing over his bright, searching blue eyes. "You are tired."

"Oh, don't be silly," Bilbo lamented, waving away Thorin's concern. "But I'm asking you for the _present_ tense, remember? So you would say, 'We are _going_ to the park.'"

"We are... _going_ to the park," Thorin repeated slowly.

"Yes, see, past tense would be, 'We _went_ to the park,' to say that you have already done this. And future tense would be, 'We _will_ be going to the park,' because it has not yet happened."

"But -" Thorin cut himself off, eyes darting away from Bilbo's gaze. He crossed his arms, shoulders slumping as he frowned mulishly at the paper.

"Yes?" Bilbo prompted gently.

" _Going_ is present and future. Why is...both?"

"Well, it's not really the word _going_ which is making the difference," Bilbo explained. He reached for the paper, murmuring an _excuse my reach_ as he wrote two lines. "Here, the difference between present and future are the words _are_ and _will_ . _Are_ is present - we _are_ learning English. We _are_ , ah, friends."

Bilbo flushed at his purposeless stammer, swallowing slightly before continuing. " _Will_ makes something future. Tomorrow, we _will_ learn English. Tomorrow, I _will_ see you."

"You will?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo blinked, looking up in surprise. "Well, it was really just an example, but - yes. I would love to see you tomorrow as well," he said, smiling gently.

Thorin continued to stare at him, silently appraising. Finally he nodded, turning back to the paper. "I will see you tomorrow," he said quietly.

They continued working on tenses, taking a subject and making a sentence about it in past, present, and future. Bilbo had learned quite quickly that Thorin was not one for patience; though he was not an angry person by any means, he became aggravated easily. He always seemed to be fighting it, however - clenching his jaw, flexing his fingers, cracking his neck. Bilbo appreciated the effort, though he knew learning a second language could be very difficult, so he tried to make it as easy upon Thorin as possible. Whenever he noticed one of the tell-tale signs that Thorin-is-slowly-losing-his-temper, Bilbo would try to subtly take a break.

Now, to do so, having an excuse was key. Thorin did not like it if he thought Bilbo was taking a break for his sake. So the Englishman had become crafty.

In this session alone, he had made three pots of tea (two of which went cold), snacks, and a bathroom break for each of them. But it would be his undoing: the tenses were clearly frustrating Thorin more so than anything they had worked on before. His fists clenched against his thighs, his foot tapped restlessly, he had almost _broken_ Bilbo’s pencil. His words came out biting, and even the slightest correction had him snorting in self-directed derision.

But Bilbo had run out of reasons to take a break.

Even with his large appetite, it was nowhere near a mealtime. There were already snacks leftover on the table, as well as the third pot of tea. He had gone to the washroom within the hour, and doing so again would only raise suspicions. (He also did not want Thorin to think he had any, er, _problems_.)

“Hamfast!” Bilbo suddenly cried, jumping from his seat.

The refugee started, staring up at him in surprise and more than a little confusion.

“Ah, my neighbour, Hamfast. You see, he had asked me earlier - well, there’s this recipe for banana bread that I have, and he’s always wanted it,” Bilbo babbled on, talking faster and faster as he over-compensated in his invented story. “Well, I finally got tired of him always asking me!” He laughed nervously, watching as Thorin’s head tilted slowly tilted and his blue eyes glazed over. The refugee probably had no idea what Bilbo was even saying - the look was a familiar one, a distant expression Thorin adopted when he struggled to keep up with something. “And I - well, if you would believe it, it completely slipped my mind! If you wouldn’t mind, I’ll just go call him now. I’ll be right back - with some fresh tea!” He picked up the pot for good measure, giving himself something to actually occupy his time.

He certainly had no intention of letting that recipe go. Why, it was a family secret!

Bilbo returned after a short while, carrying a batch of fresh chamomile tea. If this didn’t calm his guest down, Bilbo was not sure _anything_ could. Thorin glanced up at the Englishman’s approach, offering a smile - well, it was more like a pained grimace, but it was the thought that counted.

“Now! I thought we would try something else for a while,” he was quick to offer.

Thorin let out a deep breath, scrubbing a hand down his face as he nodded gravely. Bilbo bit his lip, holding back a laugh. The man looked like he was being positively _tortured_.

“I do not like this,” Thorin grumbled.

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” Bilbo teased.

Thorin snorted, though the twitch of his lips felt like a huge accomplishment to Bilbo. “Past, future, now - it is all same in my language.”

“It’s all the same?” he asked incredulously. “But then how do you know the difference?”

Thorin massaged his jaw. “I cannot explain,” he said finally. “It is difficult for me, in English. But in Khuzdul -” hearing the native name was always a jolt to Bilbo’s senses; it was thick and deep, more like a rasping grunt to his ears. “It is...good. You know.”

“Well, that’s very interesting,” Bilbo said genuinely. “Maybe once you know enough English, you could even teach me some, ah… K-Ku…”

“Khuzdul,” Thorin corrected. “Kh, kh,” he made the sound deep in his throat, as though he were trying to dislodge something.

Bilbo tried once more to mimic the name, but Thorin’s amused snort told him he was still far from accomplished.

“I learn English, you learn Khuzdul.” Thorin offered.

“Deal!” Bilbo exclaimed, sticking his hand out with an excited grin.

Thorin froze at the action, glancing between the apparently offensive appendage and Bilbo’s expression with a growing frown. “I leave now?” he finally asked.

“What?” Bilbo asked, dropping his hand. “Do you - oh, do you need to go?”

“You…” Thorin trailed off, instead sticking out his hand as Bilbo had just done. “This is hello and goodbye for you. Yes?”

“Oh, well, yes,” Bilbo said, quickly adding, “It’s also used for agreements, however! You just offered to teach me Khuzdul once you know enough English, so I basically, well, I’m agreeing to your offer. ‘It’s a deal!’” he said, once again sticking out his hand. “If you shake my hand, it means you’re agreeing as well. You’re promising to teach me Khuzdul - when you can, that is.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “You teach me, I teach you,” he said slowly. ‘It is...deal.” He stuck out his hand, head ducking bashfully at Bilbo’s encouraging smile.

The Englishman grasped the proffered hand, damnably ignoring the fluttering in his stomach as rough callouses dragged against his soft skin. They remained like this longer than strictly necessary, shaking hands then simply keeping the gentle grip. Finally Bilbo cleared his throat. It seemed to break the small spell - Thorin pulled away as though burned, determinedly avoiding Bilbo’s gaze as he stared at the paper silently.

“Right, well, ah. Like I said - let’s try something else.” Bilbo licked his lip, unsure of _what_ , exactly, that should be. It was not as though he was an experienced teacher - he had a firm grasp of the English language, sure, but that did not help one _teach_ it.

“Ahem, just ah… Why don’t I… I’ll put write down a list of words,” he decided finally. “And you build a sentence with them - any sentence, doesn’t matter.”

He reached forward, gingerly pulling the paper towards himself. Beneath lines of scribbled out messes and chunky, learning letters, he started writing: _I. You. We. Will. Are. Be._

“That should be a good start!”

It was a bit of a random, mish-mash of small words, but… well, it wasn’t like he was a _professional_ or anything like that!

As Thorin started writing, Bilbo instructed, “Read them out to me as well, please. And don’t worry if it’s wrong - we’ll fix it if it is.”

Thorin nodded sharply, shifting his grip on the pencil. That was something else he struggled with - naturally, he wanted to grip it more like a chisel than a writing implement. A legacy of his native language, Bilbo supposed.

“I am eating,” Thorin said.

“Good, good!”

“You are eating.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Bilbo said. “But that’s very similar to your first sentence - try something new! That’s how we build our vocabulary.”

Thorin thought a moment, examining Bilbo carefully before his eyes darted back to the table. “You like tea,” he offered.

Bilbo laughed softly. “I do!” he cried. “And that’s correct.”

“We are friends.”

The sentence brought a tentative happiness to the Englishman, though he could not be sure Thorin was simply repeating what Bilbo had said earlier. Nevertheless, he gently murmured, “Yes, yes, we are.”

“You will… yell, if I do not get right.”

“Hey!” Bilbo exclaimed, laughing as he elbowed the refugee playfully. “When have I ever yelled at you?”

“Always,” Thorin grumbled, even as his eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Well,” Bilbo began in a purposefully gentle tone, “You should say, ‘You will yell if I do not get _it_ right.” He pointed at Thorin’s sentence on the paper, motioning where Thorin should add in the missing word.

“Stop yelling,” Thorin muttered as he wrote a careful _it_ \- one of the easier words for him, given its straight lines.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Bilbo rolled his eyes dramatically,

Thorin stared at Bilbo, his lips slowly tugging upwards. “I accept apology,” he informed the Englishman seriously.

As Bilbo huffed in indignation, the Ereborean smiled gently. Bilbo was helpless to smile back, lured in by Thorin’s shy expression and beautiful, open eyes. For a while, they did not speak, simply staring at each other.

“You are very handsome,” Thorin said softly.

Bilbo’s mouth opened, his mind scrambling for a response as his heart seemed wont to burst from his chest altogether. _Say something, anything, you dolt!_ he chastised internally.

“Um, well, that’s…” As Bilbo stalled for a proper response, something to say in kind without gushing about Thorin’s beautiful eyes, or his silky hair, or his soft, kissable lips - Bilbo’s eyes landed on the paper.

 _Are_.

“Oh,” he sighed softly. _Are_ \- it was the next word on the list. “That’s correct, Thorin. Very good,” he murmured lamely. “But you need to write it down.”

“What?” Thorin asked, thick brows drawing together in the scowl he seemed to use to disguise his confusion.

“‘You are handsome,’” Bilbo repeated. “That’s correct, but just make sure you write it down, as well. For practise.”

The refugee glanced away, refocusing his scowl onto the paper.

“Is something the matter?” Bilbo prompted as Thorin continued to stare at the page without writing anything.

Thorin merely grunted, yanking the pencil from the table and writing down the sentence with almost violent vehemence.

**Author's Note:**

> These two are hopeless!
> 
> For some reason, AO3 is adding unnecessary spaces before and after anything italicized, which you've probably noticed. Super annoying I know, sorry, I can't seem to fix it.


End file.
